Wake Up, Whitley
by Just A Random Turtle
Summary: After a dust accident at one of his father's factories leaves Whitley in a coma, he awakens two weeks later having seen a vision of the future, one where the kingdoms have fallen and Salem has won. Now, in order to survive, he will do everything in his power to stop that future from coming to pass and save Remnant from those who would conspire against it.


_Author's Notes:_

 _I rewrote the fic. Explanation why is at the bottom of the chapter._

 **Chapter 1**

Of all the people in the Schnee household, Weiss was fond of Klein the most.

Those of crasser minds might have construed this to mean something romantic, or else pointed to demean her, but Weiss scoffed at the idea. Although he was just the family butler, to Weiss he was also her only friend and, dare she say it, more of a father than her own father. He was always there to encourage her whenever she was down and to help her in whatever ways that he could. When Winter wasn't home, he was the only one that Weiss could rely on. This was why she felt the need to return the favor whenever she could. She had an obligation to do so. And this was one of those times.

Three weeks ago, she and her younger brother, Whitley, had accompanied their father to one of his factories for a tour. An errant spark near a misplaced stock of powdered yellow dust set off a chain reaction that destroyed the entire facility in an enormous explosion. Their father had fortunately managed to escape and, likewise, Weiss had been unharmed thanks to the protective qualities of her aura, but Whitley had not been so lucky. The incident had knocked him into a coma, which had persisted until a week ago. It was only now that the doctors deemed him ready to be discharged.

Sometimes Weiss felt that Klein was too kind for his own sake. Whitley was not an easy master to serve. He had all the arrogance and pride of their father, but with all the selfishness and the demanding nature of a thirteen year old child. Had it been anyone else that had asked her to go and pick him up, Weiss would have clearly refused. She had no love for her brother, nor he for her. But Klein had asked, saying that someone from the family ought to be there to congratulate him on his recovery, so Weiss had no choice but to agree.

They arrived at Atlas Regional Hospital an hour before noon. Klein parked the limousine before going inside to fetch Whitley. Weiss stayed in the car and waited, silently dreading the ride back home.

After a while, Klein returned with Whitley following behind. Weiss spared him a brief, sidelong glance through the tinted window. He looked healthy enough. She couldn't see any sign of an injury on him. The only difference from before the accident was that his hair was a little longer and he appeared somewhat thinner. There was a foul look on his face, however, which he quickly masked when Klein opened the door and he saw Weiss waiting in the backseat for him.

"Sister," he said, stopping at the open door. "What are you doing here?"

"Congratulating you on your recovery," Weiss said offhandedly. "Hurry up and get in."

Whitley climbed in and sat down next to her. Klein closed the door behind him and then went to the driver's seat, and soon they were driving back home.

"It's been a while," Whitley said, breaking the silence that lasted from the hospital all the way to the highway. "How have you been, sister?"

"Fine."

I see." Whitley frowned. "Then everything has been going well at home?"

"That's what I mean when I said that I'm doing fine," Weiss replied, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, but it's hard to respond to something so brief."

"There's nothing wrong with a bit of quiet."

"I've had my fill of quiet in the hospital. The nights there are especially boring. How is your huntress training going?"

Weiss turned her head and arched an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about my training?"

"Since I decided to take a brotherly interest in my sister," Whitley replied with a faint smile. "I mean, you intend to enroll at Beacon in two years time, do you not?"

"How do you know that?" she demanded, her entire body tensing. "I never told you that."

She hadn't told anyone except their elder sister, Winter, and she would never tell anyone without letting Weiss know first, least of all to their little brother. Whitley paused for a moment before answering.

"It was really rather obvious when you think about it," he finally said, still smiling that annoyingly relaxed smile. "You loathe Father, so you would never attend Atlas where you would still be within his reach; Vacuo has a reputation you would never agree with; Mistral has potential, but the culture there is too formal. Too much like home. And so, by process of elimination, that leaves Beacon."

Weiss clenched her teeth. "You're wrong."

"Am I?" Whitley frowned. "I hope not. I think Beacon would be a wonderful place for you."

"What are up to, Whitley?" Weiss said. "Is this supposed to be some sort of threat? Are you going to tell Father about this?"

"What?" Whitley blinked, before his face twisted in consternation. "No. No, of course not. As I said, I was only trying to take an interest in my sister. Rest assured, Father will never know from me; or from himself, for that matter. He doesn't know you well enough to know how you would think, in my opinion."

"And you think that you do?" Weiss scoffed.

"More than Father, less than Winter. Certainly enough to know what you want to do in the future."

"You're being strange," Weiss frowned. "I've never heard you talk this way before."

"No, I'm sure you haven't," Whitley agreed. "Well, let's just say that I've had a lot to think about while I was stuck in the hospital."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, dear sister," Whitley said, serene as can be. "Look, we're home."

Weiss glanced to the front of the car. She could see the tall, black iron gates that formed the perimeter of the Schnee manor growing larger through the windshield. As they approached, it slowly yawned open and they continued on inside. They drove through a driveway lined with white winter roses and rounded the fountain at the small cul-de-sac at the end. There were already other servants outside waiting for them. They bowed in greeting as Weiss and Whitley climbed out of the limousine, and opened the mansion's doors for them as Klein took the car away.

Weiss took a few steps towards the mansion, but then stopped as she noticed that she was walking alone. She turned back around and saw Whitley standing at the foot of the front steps, gazing up at the mansion with a somewhat misty look in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Weiss asked.

"I was just feeling nostalgic," Whitley replied, shaking his head and hastily brushing aside something in his eyes with his finger. "It's been so long."

"It has been almost a month since you were here," Weiss agreed, though not without a hint of impatience. "Come on. Father will want to know that you've returned."

"Father can wait," Whitley said, which shocked Weiss so much that it felt like she had been physically slapped. "I'll see him later."

"You... you're going to keep him waiting?" Weiss said, her jaw half hanging open. " _You?_ "

"I don't wish to ruin this current good mood that I have," Whitley said dismissively. "And if he's not in any rush to see me, then neither am I in any hurry to see him."

Weiss was so stunned by Whitley's words that when he walked past her and went inside the mansion, the only thing she could do was dumbly follow after him.

She could see what was going on, but she couldn't believe it. Her eyes and ears _had_ to be playing tricks on her. This had never happened before. It wasn't even something that Weiss thought was _possible._ She would have sooner believed that the Grimm were secretly friends of humanity than this.

Whitley was _angry_ with their father.

It was an absurd notion to consider. For years Whitley had practically worshiped the man. And now, after just three weeks, two of which he wasn't even conscious for, he suddenly wished to avoid him?

 _No, surely he's only saying that,_ Weiss shook her head. _But why? What other reasons could he have?_

Weiss pondered this as she continued to trail after her brother, so deep in her own thoughts that she did not even realize that she was still following him until after he stopped and turned around to face her.

"Do you need something, sister?" he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. There was no heat in his words; merely polite curiosity.

 _What am I doing?_ "No," Weiss said. She glanced around and noticed that they were in the eastern wing of the mansion. "I was heading this way, too."

"Ah." Whitley nodded in understanding. "I take it that you're headed to the rear courtyard to train?"

"Yes," Weiss said, latching on to the offered branch. "Yes, I am."

"Won't you be needing your sword, then?"

Weiss glanced down at her hip, where Myrtenaster was most conspicuously missing.

"I'm working on my glyphs," Weiss said, taking great care not to let her embarrassment show. "I don't need a weapon for that."

"I see," Whitley said. "Perhaps I could join you, in that case?"

"You don't even have your semblance unlocked," Weiss said, rolling her eyes.

"That's not true," Whitley said. "See?"

He held out a hand and a small white glyph appeared above his open palm. Weiss's eyes widened.

"Since when have you been able to use glyphs?" she demanded.

"Ever since the explosion at the factory," Whitley answered. "The doctors tell me that the stress of the moment awakened both my aura and semblance, which were what saved me from death. Though they say it is also the reason for my unconsciousness."

"What do you mean?"

"My inexperience with these powers coupled with the great danger of the moment led to certain unexpected consequences," Whitley explained, shrugging. "Apparently, even while I was comatose I could not let go of the glyph I had summoned to protect myself. It was a constant drain on my aura, to the point where it was affecting my physical health. At least, that's what I'm told. I wouldn't know, since I was in a coma for the whole thing."

Was... was that a joke? From _Whitley Schnee?_

"Well, I'm going to be working on some advanced techniques," Weiss said, "so I'd rather be alone."

"I understand," Whitley said. "Your own training takes priority, especially since you're the one who wants to become a huntress."

"Exactly," Weiss nodded, feeling strange about agreeing with her brother. _Just what's going on here?_

"In that case, might I accompany you to the courtyard at least?" he said.

"Why?"

"I enjoy this talk that we're having. I'd like to continue as long as we can." He shrugged. "And it's not like I have anything else to do."

"You could go see Father," Weiss said. "You know he's going to be upset when he finds out that you're here and you didn't tell him."

"Then let him be upset," Whitley said. "It would be truly hypocritical of him to be angry that I kept him waiting when he never visited me once at the hospital."

"Is that why you're angry with him?"

Whitley smiled. "So, may I walk with you?"

"Do what you want," Weiss huffed, as they began walking down the hall again, this time side-by-side rather than one following the other.

"It's strange being able to walk around in our home like this," Whitley said. "I almost don't even remember where everything is."

"A month isn't that long."

"It feels like it's been much longer for me, though," Whitley said. "Like it's been fifteen years since I last stepped foot inside this mansion."

"You're being melodramatic," Weiss said, rolling her eyes. "Not to mention oddly specific."

"I suppose I am!" Whitley laughed, causing Weiss to look at him strangely.

"You're not yourself today," she said.

"Yes, you said that already."

"Are you really Whitley?"

"That sounds like a question for the philosophers: are any of us really who we say we are?" Whitley waved one hand airily. "But, yes, I am Whitley. Shall I go obtain my birth certificate as proof?"

"I'm serious. You've changed." Her eyes narrowed. "What are you up to?"

"I'm not up to anything," Whitley said, creases appearing on his brow as he frowned.

"Liar," Weiss scowled. "You've never been this nice to me before. What is it that you're after? Is it your semblance? Are you trying to get me to teach you how to use it?"

"No," Whitley said, his expression turning faintly disturbed. "That's not what I meant to imply when I asked. I just thought that it might be a good way for us to spend some time together."

Weiss snorted. "I may not know what game you're playing at, but I'm not going to be fooled by you."

"I see," Whitley said, giving a small, humorless smile. "I wonder what I'm supposed to say to that?"

"The truth is always a good place to start," Weiss answered, though she knew that he wasn't actually asking her. "But I doubt you'll tell me even if I ask. It doesn't matter. We're here, so you can go now. I need to train."

Whitley nodded, and without another word continued down the hallway while Weiss pushed opened the door to the rear courtyard and set to work. She conjured a large glyph in the center of the yard, closing her eyes to better maintain concentration. Without any dust on hand, there were only three variations of her glyphs that she could use – or at least try to use: the basic solid barrier type, the propulsion type, and summoning.

It was the last of these three that she chose to focus on now, as she had long since mastered the other two. It was the most advanced glyph technique that there was, and the one that she had the greatest difficulty with. That and time dilation, but since the latter required yellow dust to use, it was a moot point at present.

However, despite her best efforts, Weiss could feel herself being constantly distracted. She kept thinking about her brother's peculiar behavior, trying to figure out why he acted the way that he did. Finally, she sat down on the steps that led down to the courtyard and rested her chin on her hands with her elbows on her knees.

Her father had once told her that if you can't figure out why someone is doing something, you should look at the outcome and try to infer their motivation by the consequence of their actions. And as much as it annoyed her to apply her father's lessons, it was also the only thing that she could rely on now.

 _Okay. Whitley is being nice to me,_ she thought to herself. _Why? What does that accomplish?_ Looking at the outcome, the only thing that happened was that she had grown more suspicious of him than before, but that was clearly an unintended consequence. He was trying to get her to like him for some reason. To make her more agreeable to some future scheme he had, perhaps? But then why undermine himself by making a request, however innocuous it may have seemed, so soon?

Weiss let out a frustrated sigh. It was amazing how much her brother could annoy her like this without even being physically present. But then, he had a history of that, didn't he? Like that time when they were kids and he broke a vase and accused her of doing it to their father. Because there was no proof of guilt or innocence for either side, their father punished them both – exactly as Whitley planned. If he couldn't escape punishment, then he would at least drag her down with him. Or the time when she first announced her intentions to become a huntress to the family. He told everyone about it at the private school they once attended, leading to her being insulted as a barbarian and a thug by her peers to the point that their father had to withdraw her from the school and hired private tutors to attend to her education instead.

Oh, perhaps that was it. If she was this distracted by Whitley's strange behavior, then maybe that was what he had been after all along. In which case, the best thing that she could do was completely ignore him.

With her mind at last clear and focused, Weiss stood back up and returned to her training. She did not stop until Klein came, telling her that it was almost time for lunch. She returned to her room and went to her private bathroom, where she stripped off her combat skirt (which was entirely different from a dress or a normal skirt) and took a quick bath to wash off her sweat. Constant glyph-work could be just as taxing as any other form of physical exercise – perhaps even more so, given how mentally exhausting it was as well.

After drying herself off, combing out her hair, and changing into a clean dress, she headed down to the dining room where her father and Whitley were waiting at the table. Mother, as usual, was in her room with a bottle of wine for company.

Weiss sat down in silence at a table too long for just three people. Her father sat at the head and Whitley sat across from her. Soon the servants came bearing plates of food for them, setting them down in front of them before standing by the wall and waiting for the next time they would be needed.

"Mmm. This is good," Whitley said, as he practically devoured everything that was in front of him. Weiss had never seen him so hungry before. He ate like a man starving, and his manners were beginning to slip because of it.

"Whitley," Jacques Schnee said sharply. "I expected you to come see me when you arrived. Where were you?"

"Apologies, Father," Whitley said, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. "I got lost."

Weiss nearly choked on her water. Her father glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to her brother.

"You got _lost?_ " His eyebrows twitched. "What sort of nonsense excuse is that?"

"I thought it was quite the reasonable one," Whitley said, blithe as can be. "As you well know, this mansion is quite large."

"You _live_ here!"

"It's been a while since I was here," Whitley shrugged. "I must have forgotten my way around."

Weiss stared in wide-eyed horror at the scene unfolding before her. It was one thing for Whitley to complain about their father behind his back – however unusual that may be – but openly rebelling against him like this? It was like watching a car crash; she couldn't look away.

"Enough," their father snarled. "What did the doctors tell you?"

For a moment so brief that not even Weiss was sure that she saw it, Whitley smiled victoriously. This was swiftly smothered by the same calm expression as before.

"I'm healthy," Whitley said. "Thanks to my aura being awakened in time, I was saved."

"Good," Father said. "It wouldn't do to have my son disfigured or crippled."

"I'm so happy to hear how much you care," Whitley said.

Their father narrowed his eyes at Whitley, but his words had been delivered so innocently that he couldn't accuse him of sarcasm. So instead, Jacques turned to Weiss and said, "And you, are you still keeping up with that ridiculous huntress training?"

"It's not ridiculous," Weiss protested. "I'm making real progress. Even Winter said so."

"It's a waste of time is what it is," her father snorted. "You ought to be preparing to take over the Schnee Dust Company, not gallivanting around like your sister."

Weiss glanced downward and bit her lip, before looking back up with determination.

"I want to be a huntress," she declared. "Nothing anyone says will change that."

Across the table, Whitley smirked, though he covered it by taking a drink of water. At the same time, their father rolled his eyes derisively.

"How can you possibly hope to acquire the skills that you need to run a multinational company at a school for barbarians?" he said. "You're the heiress of the SDC, not a mere huntress. Start acting like it."

"What's so 'mere' about that?" Whitley interjected, causing whatever Weiss might have said in rebuttal to die in her throat as she stared at him again in wide-eyed surprise.

"What did you just say?" Jacques said, narrowing his eyes at his son.

"Hm? Did I speak too softly?" Whitley said. "Then allow me to say it again: why can't Weiss be a huntress? There's nothing wrong with that. It's admirable that she wants to be a hero. In fact, she _should_ be a huntress. She has the potential inside her to be one of the greatest in the world. It would be a crime to bury that talent here, nor is it necessary to do so. I understand that you're concerned for the future of the company, but there's really no reason to be. My sister is more than intelligent and capable enough to handle being both huntress and heiress. In fact, I believe that her experience with the former will give her the insight and worldly knowledge she needs to become an even better leader for the SDC."

Weiss's jaw hung open in a remarkable impression of a dead fish and the look in her eyes turned from one of shock to a state of complete and utter disbelief – and who could blame her? She had truly entered the twilight zone now. Whitley – _Whitley Schnee_ – had not only just rebelled against their father again, but he had also voiced his support for the sister whom he despised and spoken out in what could only be construed as praise for a profession he had always denigrated in the past.

Weiss felt dizzy. Was this all a dream? Was any of this real? Did gravity exist? Could pigs fly?

The silence that followed Whitley's words seemed heavier than lead. Finally, Jacques spoke in a dangerously soft voice, "Whitley, come here."

Obediently, Whitley stood up and went over to their father, who then suddenly and strongly slapped him across the face. Whitley's head rocked to the side, and he took a few steps that way to balance himself. Alarmed, Weiss found herself on her feet before she even had a chance to think.

"Father!" she cried out, though neither he nor Whitley seemed to notice.

Whitley touched his cheek, where a bruise was beginning to form. Then he slowly turned his head back to stare at their father with cold, unfeeling eyes – a mirror image to Jacques's own.

"Ah, there it is," Whitley said. "Father's loving embrace. How I've missed it. Why, I was beginning to think that you didn't care. You know, I never asked, but I am curious: did you at least come to visit me while I was in a coma?"

"Is that what this is about?" Father seethed. "You really think I have the time to go see someone who wouldn't even know that I'm there?"

"It does sound like something a father should do," Whitley remarked. "But I know not to hold such high standards for you. Even so, I was awake for an entire week and you still did not come to see me. You never even called or sent a message by scroll to see how I was. Where were you?"

Their father slammed a fist on the table so hard that it knocked over his cup and spilled water on the tablecloth. "Enough!" he snarled. "I don't know where this newfound insolence of yours came from, but you had best be rid of it soon. Go to your room."

"Yes, _Father,_ " Whitley said with more vitriol in his voice than Weiss had ever heard directed from him to their father before. He turned on his heel and left the dining room.

The rest of dinner passed in painful silence, with her father silently fuming as he ate. Weiss did her best to avoid attracting attention from him and was greatly relieved when lunch ended at last. Afterwards, she returned to her room with the intent of retrieving Myrtenaster so that she could work on her sword forms, but she lacked the will or energy to do so. Again Whitley was on her mind. She just couldn't fathom why he was doing what he was doing. The more she tried to understand, the more confused she became. And this time she could not satisfy herself by merely dismissing his actions as ones intended to purposefully confuse her. Finally, she gave up on trying to figure it out for herself.

She stood up and left her room.

She walked a route that she rarely, if ever, took in the house: it was the closest way to get from her room to Whitley's room. Once she stood in front of his door, she took a deep breath and knocked on it. A few seconds later, the door opened and Whitley blinked in surprise at her.

"Sister," he said. "Can I help you with something?"

"We need to talk," Weiss said. "May I come in?"

"Please," Whitley nodded, standing aside so that she could enter the room, before closing the door behind them.

Weiss took a brief moment to look around. Her brother's room was neat and organized with not a single item out of place. She had not expected otherwise, but still she could not recall the last time she was here and had wondered if it might be different. Then she looked at Whitley, who was waiting for her to speak, his hands folded behind his back in, what was for him, a relaxed posture.

"All right, Whitley," Weiss said, deciding not to waste any more time by indulging in preamble. "What was all that about?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific than that, dear sister."

"Don't play dumb with me," Weiss snapped at him. "You know full well what I mean. All those things that you said to Father, about how I should be both huntress and heiress – what was that all about? What are you up to?"

A pained look spread on Whitley's face. "Are you really that suspicious of me?"

" _Yes!"_

"I see," Whitley sighed. "I've made a mistake, then. I should have been more upfront with you rather than let my pride or shame control me."

"Quit playing with words," Weiss scowled, as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Just tell me what you want."

Whitley glanced down and away from Weiss as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then he let out a breath that sounded in equal parts defeated and resolved, before looking back up at his sister.

"Your forgiveness," he said. "What I want is your forgiveness."

Whatever Weiss had been expecting to hear, this was not it. She blinked a few times as her mind tried to process those alien words.

"What?"

"It was never my intention to mislead you into thinking that I was up to something sinister," Whitley explained. "All I want is to be your brother, _truly_ your brother, by more than just blood." He sighed and looked away again. "I know that we've had our... differences, shall we say, and I should have been more honest about that. I should have apologized to you directly, but I was too embarrassed to. I thought that I might be able to get you to forgive me if I treated you with kindness and respect from hereon out, but I see now that I was being too selfish. The past needs to be made right before moving on with the future." Whitley took a deep breath and stared evenly into Weiss's eyes. "Weiss, I'm sorry for everything I've done. I apologize for all the unkind things I've ever done or said to you. If it's at all possible, I would like it if we could start over. I want us to be brother and sister, for real this time."

"This... this doesn't make any sense," Weiss said, shaking her head as though she could dispel all the lies by doing so. " _You_ aren't making any sense. You've always hated me. You've always done your best to make my life miserable. Why should I believe that you've suddenly had a change of heart?"

"You can't," Whitley admitted. "You're right. I used to hate you. I hated you as much as I hated Winter when she was still heiress. I don't think that there's anything I could say that would make you believe otherwise. But that's why I stood up to Father at lunch just now. I'm trying to show you that I'm being sincere, that I _have_ changed."

"Unbelievable," Weiss chuckled humorlessly. "So you're telling me that you suddenly want to, what, be my friend?"

"No, not your friend. Your brother."

"Stop being absurd!" Weiss shouted, stomping her foot on the ground. "We may be related to each other, but I've never thought of you as my brother, and I know that you never thought of me as a sister either."

"And I'm telling you, I want that to change."

"And _I'm_ telling _you_ that's obviously a lie. You don't even have a reason to want to change."

"I do have a reason," Whitley said quietly.

"Then let's hear it," Weiss replied, folding her arms together.

Whitley sighed. "While I was at the hospital, I had a lot of time to think. I thought about the past, but especially about the future. And I realized something: if I continue to live the way that I have, I am going to die a lonely, pitiful death. I expect that if I actually had died at the factory, the only people that would have shown up at the funeral would be Father's business associates and sycophants – none of them would actually be there to mourn for me. I don't want that."

"You had a lot of friends at the school we went to," Weiss pointed out, thinking with no small amount of annoyance about how they had helped Whitley make fun of her dreams.

"Them?" Whitley waved his hand dismissively. "More sycophants. They are not my friends. I don't have any friends. Those around me cling to me because of my name and money. You should know that well, sister."

Weiss was forced to nod in agreement. It was true that, as a Schnee, she attracted more leeches than real people. It was why she kept her social circle small.

"So you were thinking about your own death?" Weiss commented, more to fill the gap than to ask an actual question. "That's rather morbid."

"When you come as close to death as I did, where luck was the only thing to have saved you, you start to think about these kinds of things."

"Fair enough," Weiss said. "But that still doesn't answer the question. Why me? If it's friends that you want, it doesn't have to be me. Knowing you, it doesn't make sense that you would choose me."

"As I said, I don't want to be your friend; I want to be your brother," Whitley said. "As for why I chose you, it's because of your character."

"My character?"

"Yes," Whitley nodded. "Even though you hate me, even though I've done nothing to deserve it, if my life was in danger I know you would try to save me. You're that kind of person. And I've come to respect that quality about you."

"How do you know that? For all you know, I might just leave you to hang," Weiss said, though she knew it was all a front. Whitley was right. No matter how much she despised him or wanted him out of her hair, when it came down to it, he didn't deserve to die.

"I know you won't," Whitley said with an almost wistful smile. Strangely, his eyes seemed to go distant for a moment, as though Weiss was no longer reflected in his eyes, despite the fact that his gaze never physically left her. After a few seconds, he shook himself out of his reverie.

Weiss, meanwhile, was biting her lip, deep in thought. Her gut instincts were screaming at her that all this was some elaborate trick, that she shouldn't trust anything Whitley had to say. Yet at the same time it made a certain amount of sense. If she were to assume that Whitley was telling the truth, that he really was trying to... _bond_ with her, then his previous words and actions suddenly had logical reasons behind them. And that made her think. Is this something that she wanted? Is it something she could accept? After all the years of abuse her brother had hurled at her, could she forgive him so easily? Should she?

"Weiss?" Whitley said, tilting his head slightly and frowning. "Are you all right?"

Weiss closed her eyes and let out a great sigh. "Fine," she muttered.

"Hm? Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I said 'fine,'" Weiss said snappishly. "I'll accept your apology."

"You will?" Whitley said, as his face lit up into the happiest smile he had ever had. "Then you believe me?"

"No," Weiss replied quickly, causing her brother's face to fall. "Maybe. I don't know. I don't know if you're telling me the truth or if this is just some elaborate scheme, but I'm willing to give you a chance. _One_ chance. Nothing more."

"That's all I'm asking for," Whitley said, and Weiss swore she saw him almost lurch forward to hug her. It was a good thing that he hadn't, otherwise she wasn't sure what she might have done. "I promise you won't regret it."

"I should go," Weiss said. "I suppose... I suppose I'll talk to you later."

Gods, that felt so strange to say.

"Nothing would make me happier," Whitley smiled. "Thank you, Weiss. Thank you."

Weiss gave him one last bemused look, before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

The door clicked quietly shut behind her.

* * *

Once Weiss left his room, Whitley let out a sigh and went to sit down at his desk.

"That went a lot better than I'd hoped," he murmured aloud. In truth, he had not expected Weiss to forgive him so soon or so easily. He thought he would have to for her favor for at least a month or more. Perhaps this, too, was a testament to the qualities of the hero that he knew her to be – the hero that she would one day become.

Nothing he said to her had been a lie, but neither had he told her the whole truth.

Three weeks ago, his involvement in the factory explosion left him in a coma. But unbeknownst to anyone else but himself, it also did more than that. He had seen a vision. A vision of another Remnant and another Whitley, fifteen years into the future. And what he saw then and there and everything in between had been... terrible.

He had seen nations fall and mankind pushed to extinction. He had seen the war between kingdoms that led them there. He had seen the face of their true enemy, Salem.

He had seen the End of All Things.

But that wasn't all that he had seen. When the Schnee manor came under assault by the forces of Grimm and his father and mother and even Winter were killed, it was Weiss who had come to save him, along with the rest of team RWBY. She saved him even though he had conspired to have their father disinherit her and make him the heir to the SDC. And as they gathered what remained of human- and faunus-kind not in service to Salem, they had grown closer. And then, at the very end, with everyone else dead and the two of them fleeing for their lives – when he closed his eyes, he could still picture that final scene.

Weiss, standing before him, the stinger of a Deathstalker meant for him protruding out of her belly, a red pool spreading across her clothes, dripping to the ground. Her hands coming up to cover her mouth as the horde of Grimm tore her apart so that he wouldn't have to hear her scream. A final act of mercy for the brother who once despised her. And her last words, delivered just before that with a smile when he asked why she would sacrifice herself for him: _"Don't look at me like that. I_ am _your sister, after all."_

Whitley shuddered. It was a scene that would haunt him for the rest of his days. It was something that would drive him forever. How could he not love her after that?

He still did not know exactly how he had experienced this vision, but he had a hypothesis. At the moment of the explosion, his newly awakened semblance must have reacted with all the ambient yellow dust in the air, resulting in a supercharged time dilation glyph which had then somehow _connected_ him to his other self. What he did not doubt was the veracity of what he'd seen. In the span of two weeks, it was like he had lived fifteen more years, and he remembered every moment of it. It was all too real, too vivid to be a mere nightmare or delusion. Left alone, he knew that this world too was fated to meet its end.

He would not allow that to happen.

"I'm not going to let you die, Weiss," Whitley whispered, as his hands curled into tight fists. "And I'm not going to die either. Not again. Not this time. I'm going to save us both, even if I have to save the entire world as well to do it."

* * *

 _Author's Notes Cont.:_

 _As mentioned previously, I've rewritten this fic. I did so because I wasn't satisfied with the previous version, especially the prologue and how long it took to establish that Whitley had seen a vision of an alternate, future Remnant. After some thinking, I decided that the entire prologue could essentially be cut out, as most of it was honestly just unnecessary. I also switched to writing in third person so that I could alternate between Whitley and Weiss's perspective. I think that there's a lot more I can do with that, as it expands what I'm able to explore._


End file.
